


Apricots

by RPGgirl514



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble Collection, F/M, Familiars, Fruit, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-14
Updated: 2002-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RPGgirl514/pseuds/RPGgirl514
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cernd runs away and breaks both of their hearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apricot Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Backdated. Originally written for the weekly quiz on the Attic.

There are apricot trees in the grove, but I cannot remember the last time I glanced at them. They keep their silent vigil, watching the comings and goings of everything else, yet saying nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Every living thing has something to say, if only we can listen in the right way. But the apricot trees say nothing.

Yet nevertheless, they remind me of her. Of the flaxen flower that captured my heart only weeks ago. Flikka. Even the endless beauty of nature's splendor cannot compare to hers.

It is late summer, and the blossoms are beginning to wither and fall softly from their branches. Soon, golden fruit will bow the tree's limbs, and then, even that will die. It is inevitable, the cycle of life.

I can still remember her face, tense even as she slept. Buccaneer curled by her side. How I hated leaving her. But it's for the best. It's for the balance.

Suddenly, I can hear a chorus of sweet, ethereal voices. It is a while before I realize it is the apricot trees, singing Flikka's name.


	2. Apricot Fruit

Apricots. How delicate they really are, the tender golden flesh so easily broken.

How long has it been since I left her? A day, I suppose. It does not matter anymore. I do not deserve her. 'Tis for the best.

A single fruit has somehow gone against nature, braving its way through the winter, spring, and summer months. So tiny and frail it is, the sun-kissed skin soft against my palm. Like hers. Soft, warm, and pale.

I long to see her again, hold her against me and comfort her. But I do not want her to go through any more pain, which I can only bring.

And, so selfish am I that I do not want to endure it again.

I wonder which of her robes she is wearing today. Her normal adventuring colors of pristine, light blue and pastel green? Or white edged with gold? Dare I even think she wears amber, gold, orange?

She does not know why I've left. I do not even pretend to hope she loves me. How can she, when she knows who I am?  _What_  I am? What I've done to . . . the one before her?

Apricots have never tasted so bitter.


	3. Apricot Brandy

Apricot brandy. Flikka swished the amber fluid around in the glass, staring into the broken surface.

Usually, she did not drink; no mage could afford to have their senses muddled. But on this moonless, stormy night, she was making an exception. The transmuter was hunched over a table scarred by knife marks and stained with various liquids that had long since soaked into the wood. Buccaneer was lying at her feet, glum as she.

_It isn't going to go away, you know. You're going to have to do something about it._

_Buck, just shut up. For once._

_No. I'm your familiar, remember? I don't shut up because you say so. Just go into that grove, and find him. He loves you!_  The dog growled softly to make his point.

_If he loved me, he wouldn't have left._

_You're missing the point._ Buck caught her eyes.  _That's_ why _he ran away._

Flikka drained the glass.  _How does running away solve anything?_

_It doesn't._

Flikka laughed hollowly. _Blunt as always, Buck. But you'd have to be insane to go out in this weather. And it's dark._  She shivered.

But it was with a certain determination Flikka stood, pulled her cloak more tightly around her and walked out into the night.


	4. Laiquaninwa Elee

I'm soaked, now.

The rain has been pouring for hours, since day turned to twilight, and twilight turned to night. There is no moon tonight, thankfully. Only darkness. I remember Flikka and her consuming fear of the dark. She will not be out tonight.

My hair sticks to my face, and finally, I cry. I have not cried since I was a child. Rain mixes with tears, one becomes the other, until it is no longer discernable where tears end and rain begins.

"Cernd! Oh,  _laiquaninwa elee_!" I must be hearing things. I've heard that those close to death do such things.

 _Druid, if you die before my pup gets to you, I will personally tear you to pieces! And I'll start with something best left untouched!_  Voices in my head. Definitely close to death.

A pale face looms before me. My eyelids are so heavy, I can barely make out the worry and despair in those familiar grey-violet eyes.

"Flikka?" I ask wearily. "Go away . . ."

"Look, Cernd," she says. "If you don't love me, just tell me. Don't run away and pretend it never happened. I love you, no matter what you've done. But please, don't leave me wandering around in the dark. Tell me."

"I love you, Flikka," I whisper.

And underneath an apricot tree, a transmuter and druid embrace while a faithful dog stands watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Laiquaninwa elee_ \- Elven for "blue-green eyes" and is one of Flikka's pet names for Cernd.


End file.
